


Sorrow

by Are_you_ever_not_going_to_fall_for_that



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Demonic Possession, Drama, Feels lots of Feels, Lots of character death, Sad, Seriously don't say I didn't warn you, minor crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:24:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9350900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Are_you_ever_not_going_to_fall_for_that/pseuds/Are_you_ever_not_going_to_fall_for_that
Summary: Stiles spent most days curled on his mattress refusing to leave his room. Warning lots of graphic character death! Not a happy fic!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own anything. 
> 
> This story is similar to my story Prisoner but also very different and more angsty and tragedy filled.

Stiles spent most days curled on his mattress refusing to leave the room. He didn't move most of the time, he didn't eat, he just hoped to die. However, the people in the hospital refused to let him since they insisted on sticking a needle in his arm some time ago to keep him alive. He had pulled it out a few times until they had threatened to restrain him, so he left it there, he just hated it.

He wanted to die to end this nightmare, he had thought werewolves and Kanima's were bad they had nothing on dead werewolves who wanted revenge. And there he went crying again; he wasn't sure how he had so many tears to cry. He wasn't sure why Peter chose not to kill him, it would have been much more merciful if he had killed him as well.

He remembered it very clearly, that was the worst part. A good deal of his possession he couldn't remember, but he did remember clearly with more clarity that he wished every single one of their deaths. He curled harder into himself hoping the pain and the guilt would go away, but it didn't. It never did.  A memory flickered through his mind.

Alison and her father had been first. He could still remember them stepping carefully towards the Hale house rifles in hand carefully avoiding stepping on anything that would snap and alert others to their presence. They had been taken by surprise when his body wrestled the gun from Alison away from her and shot both Alison and her father. The sound was louder than it was in television shows, and coming from his own hand rather than at a distance it was even louder.

Peter had stayed and made him watch as Alison who had been shot in the chest (the bullet though apparently it had missed her heart) pulled herself along the ground little by little, leaving a trail of blood in the dirt and leaves in her wake. She pulled herself a few feet until she was next to her father who had been shot in the stomach and was holding his guts inside himself. Her father's eyes were trained not on his stomach but on his daughter.

Stiles’ eyes then slipped down for a moment to the ground. It had been autumn. The leaves on the ground had been orange, brown, or had been until the blood had splashed over them turning them a deep blood red. He never forgot the leaves underneath them or the smell of copper in the air. His eyes lifted up from the ground and watched as Allison came into the reach of her father. She stopped moving and instead just grabbed his hand firmly. Her father's eyes spoke volumes for a few seconds, his eyes spoke of love, and pride and let Alison know exactly how much he cherished her without speaking any words.

Alison's Dad had died first, which was really the only mercy he had in that situation. He hadn't had to watch as his daughter's breathing slowly got labored, hadn't had to watch her already pale skin get even paler. Stiles realized that the bullet had nicked her lungs when she started coughing up blood, the red staining her beautiful pale skin. She didn't let go of her father hand, but she did look up at him. She couldn't speak but he did see a question in her face. 

Why? Why did you do this to us? Stiles wished he had been able to cry, or to tell tell her that it wasn't him that had done it, that he had no control over his actions. But he hadn't been able to all he had been able to do was watch her die slowly hand clutched her father's til the very end.

Stiles jerked away from the memory and looked around at the white walls around him. He didn't deserve to be here, not when it was his fault. If he had just fought harder, overpowered Peter, then they would all still be alive. He wished that he wouldn't have listened to his public defender about going with the insanity plea. He would have been in prison instead and he could have gotten himself killed easy. Instead he was stuck here, where they wouldn't even let him die even he wanted to. Stuck with the memories of people he cared about dying every single day.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.

The eyes, the eyes were the hardest part to forget. Most of the time they had stared at him in pain silently asking why? Why? And he had been unable to answer, unable to do anything. He dreamed of those eyes all the time. Stiles winced and tried to fight his way back from the memories but he had never really had been able to.

Isaac...Isaac, he hadn't liked Isaac for a long time. At first, because Isaac had been kind of a jerk and then because Stiles felt like Isaac was slowing stealing his best friend away from him. However, the three of them had started to hang out together and Stiles had started to like him. Which just made it that much worse. He didn't remember how Peter had got Isaac to come to the forest, but he did remember shooting Isaac in the chest. He remembered Issac's eyes looking at him with betrayal and the question they all seemed to ask. Why? However, with this one Peter actually answered although only to Stiles.

Peter had answered after the gray shirt Isaac had been wearing, had turned a dark red. Peter had waited until after Isaac grabbed at his chest and had panted harshly. When Isaac had taken his phone out of his jean pocket to call for help. Stiles's body had stepped forward without his permission directly onto the phone and a few of the fingers of Isaac's hand. He heard Isaac's scream all the time. Not even just in that memory but combined with the eyes. It was times like those when he wondered if maybe he was going crazy or maybe he had always been. Peter then stepped away and then watched as the panting quickened and the fire in Issac's eyes slowly started to die. He remembered Isaac's last breath well, he remembered them all he supposed, but he remembered the words on Isaac’s lips the moment before his death particularly.  
  
"Mom?" It escaped his lips in barely a whisper that Stiles wouldn't have heard if he hadn't been so close to him. Sorrow and guilt filled him up yet again. He had fought his hardest but it hadn't made a bit of difference. 3 people were dead and it was all his fault. He wanted to touch Isaac to close his eyes, but he couldn't even move his arm to do that. Stiles raged at Peter but his voice didn't escape the confines of his mind.   
  
_"Why did you do that? Isaac wasn't even there!_ " Peter didn't normally answer him when he spoke to him, but he had that time.   
  
"He trusted Derek, he should have known better." His heard his voice saying into the now quiet forest. His eyes focused on the tree that had been directly behind Isaac when his finger had tightened on the trigger. There was a cascade of blood along the tree. Stiles wished he could close his eyes. Wished that this was all a dream that he could wake up and everything would be as it was. His wish had never come true. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.
> 
> A/N: Happens after 3x07 Currents only difference is there's no Peter around so it's obviously AU.

 

* * *

Stiles stared up at the white ceiling of the room willing himself to be somewhere else in his mind. Somewhere without pain, or violence. Somewhere he could be free from all of it. His mind did take him somewhere else, but not to a pleasant place, it took him back in time to when it had happened. It seemed cruel that even though so much time had passed since the events, the details seemed just as sharp.

* * *

He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but the next thing he knew was that he was holding Scott at gunpoint in the locker room at the school. Stiles renewed his efforts to try to get control, to no avail. Scott just looked at him stupidly, confused, and like he didn't actually think that Stiles was going to use it. He wanted to tell him to run, to hide that they weren't safe but his mouth stayed stubbornly closed.

"Stiles, what's going on?" Scott had asked slowly. Stiles didn't say anything just continued holding the gun at them. Scott's face got graver as he seemed to figure out that something was wrong.

"Stiles are you okay? Stiles, tell me what's going on? We'll figure it out together okay?" Scott's face was full of concern, and of caring. It reminded him of Alison's Dad's face right before he had died.

Stiles wished more than anything that he could warn Scott. He and Scott had been friends ever since they were kids. His best friend started sniffing the air and then zeroed in on Stiles's shirt.

"Stiles?" he said suspiciously continuing to stare at his shirt. He realized from Scott's look that he must have some blood on his t-shirt. He didn't know what it looked like or how much because he couldn't even move his head to look at it.

"Who are you smelling Scott?" Stiles's voice asked. Scott swallowed and looked all around him as if he were trying to figure something out.

"Stiles? What happened to Alison's Dad?" That's whose blood was on his shirt? He felt disgusted. Stiles was pretty sure if his body could respond to him that he'd be throwing up his guts right now. He flashed back to Alison's Dad face as he had stared at his daughter and then after when his gaze had been blank.

"That's really the least of your problems," Stiles's voice came out coldly.

"Stiles, what's going on? What are you doing?" He started going forward only for something to click. Stiles heard that enough times to know that it was the sound of the safety of the gun being released.

"I'd stay back if I were you," Stiles' voice came out flippantly.

"Stiles, I don't understand. What did I do?"

"Why you killed me Scott," Stiles's voice said nonchalantly.

"What?" Scott asked him confused.

"You know I thought you were all white hat, but apparently I was wrong, because apparently, you've killed so many people you've forgotten all the people that you've killed." Scott still looked confused, when he really should have tried to run!

"You know, you're kind of hurting my feelings. I mean you did kill me, it's kind of insulting that you don't remember me." Stiles' body shrugged, "Oh well, you'll remember soon," Stiles said that hit Scott in the head with enough force to kill.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles' worry went into overdrive as the gun descended on Scott's head, a loud sickening smacking sound echoed through the air. He watched as Scott fell forward onto his knees and then hovered there for a half a moment, before falling face first into the concrete floor of the locker room. Stiles feared that Scott was dead and it was the only thing he could think about, however his body didn't share his concern and said.

"Tsk, Tsk, Tsk." His hand had found Scott's leg and wrapped itself around his jeans just above his shoes and started dragging him from the locker room door seeming completely lax. Stiles using the small part of him that wasn't worried about Scott state of aliveness, was wondering why Peter didn't seem to be worried at all. He found out why in the hallway, where his gaze momentarily went out the window where it was night. He could hear the sounds of Scott's head bouncing against the floor multiple times as he was dragged. Each time, Stiles inwardly winced although his body didn't echo the movement. His body dragged Scott until he came to his jeep, where his body hoisted Scott into the opened back seat of his jeep. Stiles relaxed slightly as he managed to catch the minor rise and fall of Scott's chest and knew that Scott was okay. _For now_ echoed in the back of his mind.

Blackness had taken over again for some time since apparently Peter was not interested in sharing what was happening next. However, the next time he became aware again was not a pleasant experience. He found himself in front of Scott's house, not moving, just looking at the door. Then his hands quickly found their way to the doorbell and the door at the same time. They frantically knocked and rung the doorbell at the same time. His hands still knocked even as he tried his hardest to wrestle away control from Peter but to no avail. He wished he could warn her as the door swung open and Mrs. McCall stood there. She was in a white short-sleeved t-shirt and jeans and she was looking at him, her face immediately focusing on his shirt, which he reminded himself was covered in Mr. Argent's blood and probably some of Scott's as well.

"Stiles what happened to you?" she asked her voice full of concern. Stiles found his head shaking vigorously.

"It's not mine, it's Scott's. I couldn't take him to the hospital. How could I explain when he heals? Will you help me get him in the house?" Mrs. McCall blinked and started out the door, Stiles followed her, he wished he could stop. His body followed her to his jeep door and let Mrs. McCall open the door. While she was fussing over Scott in the back seat, his eyes came to view the gun again, the gun was lying in his passenger's seat covered in blood. Peter gripped the gun with his right hand and used to hit Mrs. McCall in the back of the head as well. Her body slumped over her unconscious son's, Stiles had no idea whether or not Mrs. McCall had survived the hit to her head.

"Like mother like son," his voice said not mirroring how he was feeling.


	5. Chapter 5

**Don't own anything.**

* * *

The next Stiles knew was he was in a dark place, he doubted normally his eyes could see in such a dark place. It must be demon vision or something. He knew what this place was, which quickly displaced any other thought from his mind.

They were in the bank vault where Cora and Boyd had nearly killed before Allison let them out. The walls could block moonlight and the section that Derek had punched out was more or less fixed. That was very very not good. It became even less good when his view settled on Scott and his mother. They were both still unconscious, but his eyes caught sight of a circle of mountain ash around the two of them. Scott, from what little he could see seemed free to move around or at least he would have been if he was conscious. Mrs. McCall was, on the other hand, was tied up very securely to one of the bank vault walls.

Stiles found his body going forwards without his permission and heading towards Mrs. McCall. Once he reached her his hands reached out and stroked Mrs. McCall face in a very creepy manner; especially since Mrs. McCall was the closest thing he had to a mother. Mrs. McCall's eyes opened slowly and quickly became alert as soon as she saw who was stroking her face.

She seemed to remember that his body had also hit her over the head with a baseball bat, she attempted to back up a little before finding herself unable to. She looked at him questioningly and also hurt, mixed in with a healthy dose of fear. Stiles hated seeing that look on her face especially directed at him. he wished that he was strong enough to overcome Peter and didn't want to think about what was going to happen if he didn't overcome it. Stiles's body stroked her cheek again, she didn't look up at him.

"Have you missed me?" he asked her, she looked at him confused.

"How have you been Melissa?" She didn't answer, his body sighed. "I know that you know all about werewolves now. But I want to know exactly how much Scott told you?" She looked at him again with a mixture of confusion and hurt.

"Stiles, you know how much Scott has told me."

"Just humor me," Stiles said and found his hand was holding the same weapon he had used to hurt the others. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of it as well.

"Stiles, put the gun down," Melissa pleaded frightened, her eyes not leaving the gun. Stiles heard a light buzzing sound and his body turned around and saw Scott wolfed out and staring at him from the other side of the ash circle. Apparently, there was one around Scott and one around the entire bank vault.

"Stiles, what are you doing?!" Scott demanded sharply.

"Oh your finally awake. Now you get to enjoy the festivities," his voice said jovially like this was fun to him.

"Stiles," Scott said shaking his head not understand what was happening.

"Confused McCall?" His voice asked him and Scott still stared at him uncomprehending. Stiles fought for control again, he had to get free. This was his best friend and his closest mother figure. However, no matter hard Stiles fought for control he wasn't able to get free.

"Don't worry, unlike the others, before you die I want you to know who I am. After all, you were instrumental in killing me." His body turned to look at Mrs. McCall.

"Did you know that you raised a murderer?" he turned back to Scott.

"Tell you ever tell her about what you did to me?" Scott still looked confused but like he was trying to figure it out.

"Come on Scott, I know that normally you're not exactly the brain of your little 'pack'", his body said with finger quotes. "But you have to have some intelligence to have lasted this long."

"Show me you have some intelligence." It was an order now and the weapon in his hand was pointed more directly at Scott. "Or I'll make a more permanent design." Scott just looked at him blankly. Stiles watched as his finger tightened around the trigger. The sound of the weapon being fired filled the air.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles would have held his breath if he had had the ability, he was relieved to find that Peter had only hit the wall directly behind Scott. He was a little less relieved when there was no bullet but instead just threw black stuff around Scott. Was it Wolfsbane? Was it the kind that killed werewolves? Made them hallucinate? Or made them try to kill themselves? Or was there a fourth kind? Honestly, of the three, he was hoping for hallucination. Although he hadn't really like his hallucination much, it still haunted him. But it was preferable to trying to kill himself or having it kill him.

"What did you do to him?" Mrs. McCall outraged and worried voice came from behind him. His body turned around to face her and saw her struggling frantically against her binds. Stiles's back turned to her again and focused on Scott who was looking a little unsteady. His skin was turning red. What the hell was in the shot?

"Now tell me who I am!" Stiles's voice commanded loudly.

"I don't know," Scott mumbled, he seemed to get more...strange.

"What did you do to him?" Mrs. McCall demanded angry and worried. He also wanted to know the answer to that. Stiles's body turned to face her.

"A little of this a little of that. Now be quiet!" he shouted and turned back around to face Scott.

"Tell me who I am!"

"I...I don't know," Scott said softly and started looking at his hand. Then when Stiles figured out it probably wasn't jus Wolfsbane. _What did you give him?_! He yelled at Peter who didn't answer him either.

"How many people have you killed?!" Stiles' voice shouted. Scott sort of just tumbled to the ground. _What the hell did you do to him?!_ Scott peered up at him barely able to keep his eyes open and let out a barely audible.

"Peter?" Scott's mom looked quickly at Scott then to Stiles then back to Scott.

"Peter? What do you mean Peter?" she asked confused. Stiles's body stepped forwards until he was only a foot away from her. She tried to make herself smaller so that Stiles's body couldn't touch her but she couldn't. He stroked her cheek again and she glared at him.

"You're so pretty. It's such a shame that your son killed me. You and I could have had a lot of fun." Stiles wished that looks could kill because the way Scott's Mom was staring at him he'd be dead and then hopefully Peter would no longer be a problem. Stiles became aware that he had another rope in his hands. He wasn't going to strangle her, was he? He fought again to no avail. However, thankfully, at least for the moment, he didn't use the rope to strangle her. He just used it to tie her head securely so that it couldn't move. Stiles realized in horror that his body was going towards Mrs. McCall in a way that he could only be doing one thing. His body was kissing Mrs. McCall.

A wave of revulsion rolled through him, she was the closest thing he had to a mother. Mrs. McCall tried to struggle. and apparently bit something in his mouth because when they separated his eyes were drawn to the ground where blood droplets were dripping to the floor of the bank vault.

"I like 'em feisty." his voice said. Stiles heard a groan from behind him and turned to face Scott. He was in full werewolf mode complete with the yellow eyes staring at him. Scott was still on the ground, but he seemed very very angry. Stiles's body made his way over to him and took out something from his jacket, well two somethings, a vial, and a needle. He put the needle into the vial and filled it up, then pressed the plunger a little to get all the bubbles out. He made his way to Scott who growled at him, but didn't move from the floor. Stiles' body stuck the needle into Scott's arm and took it back out before Scott could move towards him, Stiles's body made his way out of the circle. _What did you do?_ Stiles asked Peter scared because he didn't like this at all. Scott slowly made his way up to his feet and by the time he did Stiles's body was out of reach.

"You'll just have to wait and see like them," Peter said softly, louder he said.

"Nunc esse sub homine, sed virtue mea et omnis qui in locum. " Stiles' heart stopped for a moment. As far as he knew Peter didn't know any other languages. He hoped not but he feared that that meant it was a spell. Stiles' vision turned to the floor where his foot moved some mountain ash so that it broke the circle. Scott could leave now, except that his gaze had gone from him to his Mom and he looked even angrier than before. _What did you do?_ Stiles asked repeated terrified. Scott wasn't leaving, he was making his way to his mother who had noticed the look in his eyes and looked scared.

"Scott it's me, your mother," she said her voice rising the further into the sentence she got. Just then the vault door creaked open bit by bit and Derek stood there. Maybe he would save them all? He thought it was possible until he saw Derek go forward focused on Scott advancing toward his mother and not noticing the line of mountain ash. After Derek stepped over the line Stiles's body filled in the missing line. Derek was trapped in there with Scott who wasn't thinking straight and his tied up mother. Stiles had a feeling that he was going to have nightmares about what was going to happen for the rest of his life... if he survived...right now he was kind of hoping he wouldn't.


	7. Chapter 7

 

He had survived, and like he had predicted, he wished that he hadn't. That bank vault held many nightmares for him. In fact, about half his nightmares which happened nearly every night were of what had happened in that bank vault. Which was why he avoided sleeping like it was the plague. Unfortunately for him, the doctors eventually made him sleep by pushing things into his veins. They pushed all kind of things into his veins, he didn't even know what half of it was.

But he hated the ones that made him sleep most of all. Unfortunately for him, most of the liquids were colorless and it was nearly impossible to tell one from another. But he had the feeling that he had just been given another dose of sleeping medication due to the fuzzy way his head felt.

* * *

Derek looked between Scott and his mom looking like he was trying to take stock of the situation. He apparently noticed the look in Scott's eyes because in a flash he was on the other side of the room between Scott and his Mom.

"Scott," Derek's voice asked cautiously and Scott's eyes just glared into Derek's. Derek's eyes then flickered to him and then to the line of mountain ash that his body was currently on the other side of.

"Stiles?" he looked between Stiles and mountain ash a few times and asked.

"Why?" Stiles wanted to tell him, but couldn't get the words to escape from his throat.

"Why not?" was all his voice said.

"He's your best friend and his mom," Derek continued obviously still confused and seeking answers. There was a long pause in the air during which Derek kept his eyes rotating between Scott and Stiles's body.

"You're going to die in there nephew, killed by this boy. You're just lucky that unlike the others I actually want you to know who I am." Derek frowned and he seemed to be trying to figure it out while keeping a watch on both Scott and Stiles's body. After a long moment, Derek's voice rang through the air.

"Nephew?" Derek asked icily.

"Derek, hasn't anyone ever told you not to kill your uncle, it's not...polite."

"Yes because killing your niece Laura, makes you so much better of a person," Derek spat back at him.

"Laura was...necessary," his voice replied calmly.

"As was yours," Derek spat back. But their conversation was cut short when Derek noticed that the area around Scott's eyes were red, a deep red. Which meant something to him because he heard Derek let out a string of swear words that would make a sailor do a double take. Derek backed up and then looked behind him. He tried to untie Mrs. McCall, but apparently, the ropes were soaked in Wolfsbane. The second his hand touched the rope Derek let out a hiss then backed away from the ropes. He wanted to ask Derek what was wrong with Scott, but his voice refused to obey him again. He just stayed in one spot as Scott came towards Derek and Stiles noticed that he was foaming a bit at the mouth.

He wished that he could close his eyes to stop himself from seeing what was about to happen, because he knew that someone in that circle of mountain ash was about to be killed. However since he couldn't close his eyes, he was forced to see Scott attacking Derek fangs first. Derek was an alpha but who knew what stuff was in the thing that was injected into him, or the spell that Peter had put on him. Derek punched him hard and Scott flew across the room. The hit didn't seem to faze Scott much because he just got right back up onto his feet and started toward Derek again. This time Mrs. McCall's voice rang out

"Don't hurt him." Derek hesitated for a second. A second was all Scott needed to punch him hard enough that he hit the mountain ash wall and sort of slid the down the invisible wall. Derek got back onto his feet and ran across the room, just in time to knock Scott away from his mother. The results being Derek was on top of Scott who wasted no time and attacked Derek, Scott bit his throat causing Derek to bleed heavily from the wound in his throat.

Stiles was at a loss at who he wanted to win. If Derek won then Scott could die. If he didn't Derek and Scott's mom would definitely die. Then again they were all surrounded by a line of mountain ash, it was very doubtful that any of them were going to get out of the circle alive.

Derek threw Scott again, this time causing him to hit the invisible wall the mountain ash made.

Derek seemed to hesitate for a moment looking between Scott and his mom before sighing briefly as a look of determination took over. _No_ , Stiles thought. He had a feeling what that look meant and he didn't like it. Derek crossed the room in a blur and wrapped his arms around Scott's neck choking him.

"No Derek stop!" Scott's mom begged tearfully as she took in the scene happening before her eyes.

Scott just struggled for a few moments vigorously, but then he started gasping harshly. Stiles watched in horror as Scott gasped more and more. Derek was killing Scott less than 20 yards away and there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it but silently struggle to regain control and be unable to even control his tears ducts. Just when Stiles thought that Scott was going down, his head snapped up. His eyes glowed a deep blood red, deeper than the red of the alphas. It glowed for a moment before Scott moved his arms more quickly than his eyes could follow. A second later Scott was out of Derek's arms and Derek seemed to be holding his arms at an odd angle. Scott's next move was just as fast and suddenly Derek slumped to the ground. Stiles's eyes focused on Derek's unmoving body and noticed the wrongness of his body, particularly Derek's head. It was at the wrong angle. Stiles's eyes then moved from Derek's body to Scott who was staring off into the distance. Scott had just killed Derek.


	8. Chapter 8

' _No!'_ he screamed in his head and could practically feel Peter smirking. Peter had just made Scott kill Derek! Scott would never able to get over this. It didn't matter that Peter had made him do it, Scott would never be able to get over killing Derek. However, his thoughts about Derek quieted when Scott's gaze went from staring off into the distance to looking at his mother.

_No! No! No! No!_ He screamed inside his own head. " _Don't make Scott do this! I'll do anything!"_ He knew that if Scott killed his own mother he'd never be able to forgive himself and he would lose his best friend forever.

"Don't worry Stiles, Scott won't be around very long to feel guilty about it...However, however long he is around it is certainly going to hurt," he said seeming pleased about it.

_Leave him alone._ Stiles cried in his head begging Peter for once just to listen to him to not do this to his best friend. When Peter said nothing back and Scott started slowly advancing on his still captive mother. _No,_ if he could sob he would, but he couldn't, at least not aloud. All he could do was watch Scott got closer and closer to his mother. _No, no, no_ was all he could think as he watched Scott get nearer and nearer.

His eyes, by which he meant Peter, were focusing on Scott's mom face which was frozen in fear, looking at her only son approaching her the way he was. Stiles wished he could close his eyes and not watch what was coming next, but he couldn't. He had to watch as Scott reached his mother.

For a long moment, Scott just stared down at her with those deep red eyes that gave him the creeps. He in what seemed simultaneously like slow motion and too fast to see flash Scott lifted one werewolf claw in the air towards his mother. After a short pause, Scott brought his claws swiftly down creating a large ragged gash in his mother's throat. Blood started sluggishly pouring from the wound, making its way down her throat and soaking into her t-shirt. The blood kept pouring even as she started gasping. Apparently, Scott had also torn into her airway.

The only thing that looked like it was keeping Melissa up was the fact that she was tied and couldn't move. She was starting to get rather pale. He wished he could help her, even though he knew with the ragged breathing and steady blood loss, even if he was in control of his body, there was probably nothing that he could do at this point except to make her more comfortable.

This wasn't fair. Scott's Mom didn't do anything. She had even gone on a date with Peter. She was just being used as chest piece in Peter's revenge scheme. Not for the first time, but there was a good possibility of it being for the last. But there was nothing he could do except stand there and watch as his best friend killed the woman who was the closest thing to a mother that he had. His eyes flickered to Scott who gazed down at his mother like he was about to attack again when Stiles's voice rang out.

"Suscito."

The deep redness in his eyes suddenly vanished. Scott looked around the room briefly confused before his eyes landed on his mother. His eyes widened unnaturally large. If the circumstances hadn't been so dire, it might have even been comical. But there was no one laughing. Instead, his best friends eyes were full of panic. His claws instantly disappeared and he put his hand as tightly over the wound in his mother's neck trying to stem the bleeding. Trying to save her.

"No, no, no Mom no," his voice broke as he said Mom. He added his other hand but the blood still kept coming, albeit a little slower than it had before. Stiles could see tears streaming down his checks as Scott's mom got even paler and Scott's hands were getting more and more vibrantly red.

"Look what you did Scott," Stiles' voice came out coldly. He wasn't sure that ever hated anyone as much as he hated Peter in this moment. He had killed almost everyone that he cared about and he had made his best friend kill Derek and his mom. If he wasn't trapped inside his own body, he would kill him any way he could, but he couldn't. He was doomed to just watch the train wreck that was happening before his eyes. Scott momentarily looked at him angrily and then back to his mom.

"You made me do it," he said angrily and sadly at the same time.

"Maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that it was your claws that did the deed," his body said. Stiles watched as Scott hunched into himself a little bit and he knew that Scott was feeling guilty. He wished that he could tell his friend that there was nothing to be guilty about. That Peter had made him do what he had done, because he was a crazy sick individual but again he couldn't. Scott, however, ignored him, and instead focused on his mother who was looking at him tears in her eyes.

"Mom I so sorry," he said then started sobbing, as he watched her gasp a few more times. Scott's mom managed to move her head so that it was next to Scott who froze at the unexpected movement. Scott watched stunned as she quickly pressed her lips to his forehead. The gasps were coming quicker and quicker now and Stiles knew that it wouldn't be much longer. She was going to die and Scott would have to hold onto that for as long as lived. His heart ached for his best friend as he watched the heartbreaking scene in front of him.

"I love you mom, I'm so sorry." Scott kept repeating over and over and kissed her forehead as well as her breathing deteriorated. When she finally stopped breathing, Scott let out a howl. He could feel his heartbreak and his own heart broke for his best friend, after all, he knew what it was like to lose a mom. But losing one this way had to be much much worse.

* * *

Scott held her for quite a while, sometimes rocking her body, other times just crying as he looked into her blank eyes. However, after some time he managed to get up slowly and turned toward him, his eyes yellow.

"You killed her!" he yelled.

"No, actually that was you. You're the one with blood on your hands." Scott briefly looked at his claws which did, in fact, have blood on them, his mother's blood, before looking back up.

"You did this! You did all of this!"

"Well yes I did," his voice said not showing a trace of remorse, in fact, it sounded like he was gloating.

"Why her?!" he shouted angrily but his voice broke again as he looked down at his mother's body, "She didn't do anything to you. She didn't even really know about you."

"Because Scott, you killed me and it wasn't fun where I went and I needed to give you a small dose of my pain before I take my revenge. Now that we're here, I'm kind of wishing that I hadn't rushed it so much, that I had taken more time," his voice said a little wistfully, "but I guess you can't can't change the past." Peter said like it didn't really matter. Like he hadn't just killed so many people in so little amount of time.

"I thought for some time about leaving you alive. I mean you did just kill Derek and your mother and leaving you with the memories seems like an adequate punishment. But, then again, if I did that you would probably come after me and I can't have that. However, I can't have you dying easy either so..." Stiles' body went to the corner of the room, where there was a something covered by boards and bricks which he hadn't noticed before. Then again maybe Peter had never turned his head towards it, or maybe he had been distracted. His hands stripped away the bricks and boards to reveal a tank and a hose leading off from it. Stiles had a bad feeling about what was in the tank. His hands turned the nozzle and sprayed Scott with the liquid inside of it. Scotts screams echoed throughout the bank vault. Yep, he was right. It was wolfbane.

Stiles' hands sprayed Scott the liquid for what seemed like years, although it was probably only hours. But hearing his best friend's screams and knowing that his own hands were the cause of his pain, probably had a hand in making it seem longer. Eventually, the spray ran out.

Stiles wished he could be relieved, but he knew what was coming and wished that he wouldn't have to watch it. He wished he was stronger. He fought Peter again but Peter stayed in control.

He found his hand searching around in his pockets, his eyes were drawn to said hand. There was a gun in his hand. To his horror before he could even wrap his head around that the gun went off. The sound of the gun echoed through the room. Scott stood in place with a confused look on his face. A patch of red started to develop on the left side of his chest. Scott touched the spot and brought his red fingers up to his eyes with a look of confusion that had no place being there after everything that happened. His fingers started to tremble first before anything else happened and Scott noticed. The two of them stared at his fingers. Suddenly Scott's legs buckled sending him crashing into the concrete floor.

Stiles couldn't breathe and then realized with a jolt that he could finally move. He crossed the distance between the two of them quickly and immediately was at his side. He didn't care if this was a trick, or this was some kind of torture, he was going to be there for Scott, for his best friend.

Scott's breathing sounded labored and nearly as raspy and gurgly as his mom. Her airway had probably been punctured but Scott's lung was probably injured, maybe collapsed. Scott's eyes weren't focused on him, instead, they were focused on the ceiling. Stiles grabbed Scott's hand, wincing slightly as he felt the tacky blood still there from when Scott had tried to save his mom. It was clear from the glazed look in Scott's eyes, and the gurgling breath, along with the blood that was flowing from the chest wound, that this wound was most likely fatal. But that didn't mean that he didn't have a healthy dose of denial.

"Scott, stay with me. It's going to be fine," Stiles pleaded as tears finally made their way down his cheeks. They came gushing down now that they finally free to, rather than being stopped by Peter.

Scott's eyes cleared slightly and he seemed to notice that Stiles was there and that he was finally himself rather than Peter. Scott opened his mouth and looked like he wanted to say something, But before he could hear Scott's last words, Stiles found his hands, again not his own, and pressing into Scott's wound. Not the kind of pressing to stop the bleeding of a wound like Scott had been doing earlier, the kind you do when you want to make a bad injury worse. He seemed to have more strength with Peter in his body, as he heard the sound of a bone snapping as he pushed down on his body. Scott gave one last very pain filled expression before his breathing stopped.

No. No. No! No! No! He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout. He wanted to cry, but his previous tears were drying and he was powerless to make any new ones. He had killed Scott. He had just killed his best friend. No matter what came after this he would never be able to get over this.

"I wouldn't get too shook up about it Stiles. We're not done yet," his own voice said and he felt a new shiver of fear go through him.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So by this point, you should know that it's not going to end nicely...so keep that in mind.

The next thing that Stiles knew he was staring at his front door. No, a cold dread settled in again. Not his Dad. That was the only reason they could be here was to attack his dad after attacking everyone else. But why? His Dad hadn't done anything. Then again neither had Isaac. Peter seemed to just be pissed off and taking it out on everyone connected to him that he could find. Not that knowing made it any easier to bear. _Please don't go in there._ He begged silently as he started moving forward. Peter didn't listen and opened the door.

No! No! The first thing he saw was his father running towards him and Lydia just behind him.

No. No. Not her too. Not the two of them after everyone else. His Dad was the only family he had left. Lydia, he still loved, even if the two of them had fallen more into a friendship lately than the romance he had spent his whole life striving for. But that didn't mean that they weren't the two people he cared about in the world that were still alive. He wanted to warn them to run away, to not believe whatever lies he was sure were about to come out of his lips but he couldn't. Like with everyone else, he was forced to just watch whatever was about to happen.

His father stopped for a moment just a few feet away from him. His eyes gave him the impression that he was worried about him, when what he really should be doing was running away from him.

"Stiles...what happened? Are you okay? Do we need to go the hospital? What happened?" His Dad was looking down at what must be his shirt. How much blood did he have on it now? If his Dad noticed then Peter probably hadn't changed it from before, which meant it still had Argent's blood and probably Scott's too if no one else.

"It's not mine," his voice said trembling, Peter using it to pretend that he cared. He watched both his Dad and Lydia frown at that. Lydia frown deepened as she probably thought about what that meant.

"Stiles, if it's not your's, whose blood is it?" she asked and to her credit, her voice barely trembled.

"The question isn't who's blood is it? It's who's blood isn't it?" his voice said dropping the false trembling and any pretense of being him, showing his true color. They both looked at him in disbelief but they both just stood there as he put his hand behind his back bringing it out the same gun that had been used to kill many of the others.

"Stiles what's going on?" his Dad asked putting up his hands, Lydia followed suit. She looked at him trying to look into his eyes. Maybe trying to figure out what was making him act this way. Run! He wanted to tell them. Run! His body would probably follow but maybe they could get away. They could leave him, leave Beacon Hills and live out the rest of the lives in peace.

He could tell though with a single look, his Dad was never going to leave him. Especially now that he seemed to be looking at him with the look he knew that meant his Dad had figured out that there was something not quite right about this whole situation, but hadn't exactly figured what was really going on yet. Lydia seemed to be on the same track, though it might take a little longer for her to get there. Brilliant Lydia was, but she didn't have as much experience with him as his Dad did and as much experience solving things as he did.

He wanted them to leave, to leave in one piece but neither of them moved. Their eyes focused on him, or more specifically on the gun in his hands.

"Stiles tell me what's going on?" his father demanded though he didn't put his hands down. He wished he could tell him but Peter wouldn't let him.

"We can deal with it. Whatever it is." He wished it were that simple. That they could just hug it out and everything would be fine. But even if his Dad was to somehow break him from Peter's grasp, he wasn't sure even his Dad would be able to break him out of this. This guilt.

"I'm pretty sure even with your connections as Sheriff, you can't make this all go away." He gestured with the gun towards his chest. "After all, I killed Isaac, Allison, her father and Scott, after I made him kill Derek and his Mother. I'm pretty sure the first four can be clearly linked to this gun though that I have in my hands." Both his Dad and Lydia blanched when he spoke casually about killing them.

"What the hell are you and what have you done to my son?" His father barked sharply putting his hands down and stepping towards him, when he was still a few feet  away Stiles' body released the safety.

"Congratulations, you're the first to figure it out without any kind of hints,"

"I know my son. He's not a killer," his dad said looking at him defiantly." Peter using his voice made some tsking sounds before continuing.

"That's not exactly true. After all, he was with the others when they killed me which makes him a killer."

"And who are you?" His gaze turned towards Lydia who had asked the question.

"I'm the one who took a nibble out of you,"

"Peter," Lydia breathed, now sounding the appropriate amount of terrified. Peter had bitten her and then had almost managed to get her to rescue him but they managed to stop that in time. Maybe it would have been better though for them if they had allowed it to happen. If he had his own form, then he wouldn't be able to possess him and take everyone by surprise. It might also have brought him back before he had lost every part of him that used to be human.

"You're alive, but you're not a wolf," he said.

"I'm immune," she said after swallowing a few times. Lydia was as tough as nails when the chips went down. But it was smart to be scared, especially after Peter admitted to killing the rest of their circle of friends.

"Nobody is immune," his voice said sounding more than a little amused. He started walking around the two of them mostly looking at Lydia, only sparing his Dad a glance every time he so much as twitched.

"You must be something else? How rare? But what else?" Peter sounded quite fascinated in finding out what Lydia was. Stiles was pretty sure he knew as well as Lydia did and she certainly didn't know what she was. Peter circled closer and closer to Lydia till he was right in front of her. He ran Stiles' fingers through her hair and Lydia shrunk away from him.

"He loves you, you know." Stiles at this point didn't care much about him letting out his not too hidden secret. "But you only had eyes for Jackson," His face was brought closer to Lydia so that he could see her wide surprised eyes even clearer. He heard himself sigh and then turn around and suddenly his Dad let out a cry as Stiles' body shot his forearm.

"I wasn't done yet, please wait your turn like a good boy." He could hear his Dad curse and hiss at the pain. But before he could even see how bad the wound was, he turned back to Lydia who looked even more terrified. But he could also see the anger in her eyes as her eyes darted between his and his Dad's.

"So what's the plan?" She asked more calmly and with a lot more strength than he thought he could in her shoes.

"Well, I'm going to destroy everyone that had anything to do with this, if only by association. Guess who that list includes?" He said bringing his lips down to hers and kissing her unresponsive lips. He broke the kiss soon after with a sigh. "You're not making this very fun."

"Sorry to disappoint," she said with a little more fire.

"Maybe if I told you that the person was Jackson and you could save him?" Her eyes widened slightly but he could see that Peter had her attention.

"So you do still care about him? Interesting. What would you do to save him? Everyone in this room is going to suffer. Some sooner than others," Peter said pointing to his Dad, who had torn part of his sheriff's uniform off and wrapped it around the wound on his arm that was bleeding through the strips. Still, it wasn't a fatal wound, just one that had to hurt like hell. "But Jackson is far away. I might be persuaded to ignore his small part in this. After all, he didn't really know what he was doing." He grabbed her arms firmly and then started kissing her again.

"If you want to save Jackson I'd start kissing back," he said suggestively. As much as he didn't like Jackson, and as much as he hated the thought of Lydia kissing Peter even if he was wearing his body, he understood when her lips hesitantly started moving, even as she made a face as she obviously didn't like it. The kiss broke a few seconds later. He grabbed her arms tighter and Lydia let out a cry. Peter was hurting her.

"Sorry, not good enough. I think I'm still going to have to kill him," he said nonchalantly, then tossed her backward with inhuman strength. She flew into the nearest wall. His attention turned to his Dad who was now holding a gun on him, even as his arm was steadily bleeding through the strips.

"What are you going to do?" His body stepped forwards fearlessly still holding his own gun.

"You know that Stiles isn't in possession of this scrawny body at the moment. If you shoot, all you'll be doing is killing your son. As for me? I'll jump into the least damaged body around. That would be either you or Lydia," he glanced over at her and saw that she hadn't yet gotten up from the floor near the wall.

"Maybe you then," he said returning his attention back to him.

"How the hell?" His dad asked bewildered, as he didn't even know about werewolves. Yet seemed to be taking possession better than he had ever expected, especially for not knowing anything about the supernatural.

"Exactly, Hell. After a few centuries, you can take a form that can take possession of others. The process is extremely painful and your son, my nephew and Argents all put me there. They're all dead, except for Jackson but that will soon be remedied."

"Why us?" he spoke. Stiles wanted to know that too. Of anyone, they did the least. They weren't there and they hadn't even really known about it.

"Because you matter to him, both of you do and even though Stiles was not the most central part of my death, he was the best vessel for it. I've decided now that his punishment will be far worse than the others. Maybe that will teach him about the nature of the world and what happens when you refuse a gift." Wait? This about him refusing the bite? What?

"But mostly this is about pain, and I figure he's the kind of person who will really get this lesson," He had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but it didn't make him feel any better. His body brought up the gun a little as had fallen slightly to the side so that it was level with his Dad's head.

"Stiles, if you're anywhere in there-" What he was about to say he'd never know because two things happened at that moment. One, Lydia stood up from the wall and let out an ear piercing scream that made his ears hurt. Apparently even Peter noticed because his hands flew up to cup his ears... but it was one second too late as he had also pulled the trigger on the gun. Peter after a moment veered back in his Dad's direction. Only for a split second, though, just long enough to see him on the floor before he turned back to Lydia.

"Well that solves that mystery," his voice sounded excited. "You're a banshee. The things you could learn to do. Unfortunately learning to do them, would require you to live and I'm sorry but I can't have that happen. Still, we could have had great times, if only you hadn't denied me," his voice said, even creepier than it had before.

Lydia's eyes widened as a second shot split the air. Even as she collapsed to the ground her eyes stayed open. Peter turned his body to look at his father who looked to be still alive but not for much longer. He was going to watch the two people he still cared about die now. If Lydia wasn't already dead. He was started to feel something odd, something he couldn't put into words.

"I shot the sheriff but I did not shoot the deputy." Stiles' voice sang nonchalantly. He didn't know how to respond to that. His voice came out again as the sound of distant sirens echoed in the background. Someone had probably called the cops when they had heard the first gun shot. How long ago had that been five minutes? Ten? An hour? Time was all starting to blur together.

"Well this was fun, but I have at least one more to go and I would take way too long to take your along, so you finally get to be free of me," Stiles' mouth opened and a large black stream of smoke exited his mouth. He was finally able to move again. Only the first thing he did with his new found ability was to collapse, too weak to do anything else. He took in a deep breath before he looked up. He had to see if either of them was still alive. If either of them would make it long enough for the ambulances that he hoped were coming to help.

He looked up at Lydia first, only to gasp harshly and cover his mouth as he saw the shot had hit Lydia in the head right where her hair started. Her eyes were still open and unseeing. He swallowed harshly wanting to break down right then and there but if he could help his father he had to try. He looked and saw that his Dad was actually shot in the chest, not the head maybe Lydia's scream had jerked the shot slightly down. Not that it helped much because his chest was pumping blood into his shirt that entirely saturated by the blood at this point. He was trembling though so he might be in shock but he wasn't dead- yet. He dashed to his dad's side. He put pressure on the wound. All he had to do was get his Dad to hold on long enough for the sirens to reach them and they couldn't be that far off now.

"Dad! I'm so sorry!" he whispered to his Dad who gazed unseeingly at the ceiling. "Dad! Dad! Please don't go." His Dad was all he had left. Allison was gone. Isaac and Derek too. Scott was gone and so was Lydia. His Dad, was his whole world. He was in front of him and he couldn't lose him too. He couldn't be left all alone. The sirens were getting closer, only his Dad pulse was getting worse, not better. He felt for his Dad's pulse again only for his Dad to stop breathing- at the exact moment the cops busted in.

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

He had done everything the cops asked him, but by the time the EMT's made it onto the scene, his father was gone. After that, the sort of odd feeling had come back, and he hadn't felt anything for awhile. Then the guilt had come crashing back making everything worse. They had sent a multitude of shrinks at him, most of whom thought he was a killer despite his defender's story that no one really believed. They thought he had made it up to avoid going to jail. What their reasons were for him killing everyone he cared about, he didn't know because honestly, he blocked them out whenever they were in the room.

He wasn't crazy. He would almost rather that he was, then at least he knew that one day it could get better but he wasn't. The door opened again and two people in white lab coats came into the room. One was a rather tall brunette with rather long hair for a shrink. The other was a slightly shorter but still very tall with short, dirty blond hair. Normally the moment anyone stepped in his room he instantly ignored their existence but the two of them were different in a way he couldn't put his finger on. It might have something to do with the many drugs floating around his system. It often made it difficult to think, much less puzzle something out. The taller man undid his restraints and the two sat in two chairs across from him and started whispering to each other.

"How have you been doing lately Stiles?" 1 point for them for knowing how to read a chart with his preferred name on it. Not everyone did and they usually ended up slaughtering it.

"Peachy," he said sarcastically. He was tied down to a bed, let up only three times a day to pee. He was surrounded by people who assumed he was a liar, which admittedly might be due to the fact that he had never denied the charges ever since he had come here. He had killed his friends and family. It was his fault.

"I was wondering if we could-"

"Do I really have to talk about this again?"

"You actually according to your files haven't ever talked about it. The only time your report was taken was with your lawyer. You haven't talked about it since." So they were quite a bit smarter than the normal docs. Granted, this hospital was for the criminally mentally insane. It's probably not the kind of glamorous job they thought they were going to go to medical school/grad school for. They probably were burnt out or used to liars. Maybe they were new and hadn't had their spirits broken yet. But why was there two? There was something that bothered him about there being two. He blinked several times trying to clear his mind enough to bring whatever it was in better focus, it didn't work. The shorter of the two noticed this and nodded towards his IV to the taller of the two.

"My previous statement still stands," he said looking between the two suspiciously. The taller one stood up but rather than leaving after his refusal, he turned his IV drip down. He had figured how to do that too, but he got in trouble whenever the orderlies found out he did it. Why would a doctor or a shrink reduce his medicine? Most of the time they seemed to increase not lowering it, mostly when Stiles annoyed them.

"You feeling any better?" The taller asked. Stiles shook his head. Medicine took a while to get out of your system. Surely these doctors or shrinks should know that?

"Right, it takes time to get out of your system," the taller one said after a minute. A doctor or shrink, they should just know that shouldn't they? They went to medical or shrink school for years, didn't they? There was something off about them. If only the drugs would leave his system maybe he could figure out what it was. The two didn't leave when he refused to answer, but he had outwaited all the shrinks and doctors before, he doubted that it be any different now. But they didn't move, even after ten or twenty minutes, they didn't move. The two just exchanged glances every few minutes. Stiles sighed, he knew he wasn't going to get out of there without some sort of response because apparently the shrink/doctors wouldn't leave without one.

"According to all the reports, I stole Allison's dad gun and shot up my friends because I had some sort of psychotic break. Maybe I inherited some genetic potential of instability because my mom had frontotemporal dementia. Maybe because I was a loser in high school and went on a rampage but I decided to kill only my friends and family because that's something that school shooters normally do." His voice was full of sarcasm because he had never told the truth except to his public defender. He knew that the public defender had changed it slightly especially after Stiles had refused to collaborate it afterward. All he knew was psychotic break was written all over his files. Most of the staff didn't believe that and treated him like he had lied to stay out of prison. Which was fine with him since that was where he should be.

"That's what they say. Is that what really happened?" Stiles blinked at the shorter man who had spoken. He didn't have the professional voice of a shrink/doctor that his partner had, he was speaking straightforward. There was something off about them and now that the medication was starting to leave his system, he noticed little things that he hadn't before. They were both wearing plaid underneath their white lab coats. It was barely showing but he could see it. Doctors/Shrinks didn't wear plaid. They wore either suits or at least business casual clothes. He looked down for the first time and noticed that the two were also wearing jeans. That's what was wrong with them.

"You're not doctors or shrinks are you?" He looked around the room looking for anything he could use as a weapon but lunch was long over so he didn't even have a lunch tray. Was it Peter? Had he come to finish him off now that he had gotten Jackson and who knew who else?

"Hey, we're not going to hurt you," The taller one spoke again using his what he supposed was supposed to be calming voice and reached towards him. Stiles backed away as much as he could. His limbs were still sluggish due to the drugs in his system though.

"Yeah, I don't think he believes us," the shorter one said leaning forward towards him, the taller one shot him an annoyed look. Stiles knew that the two were very familiar with each other and they weren't just colleagues

"Look, we're not going to hurt you. We just want to know what really happened."

"You're not doctors," he said trying to get up only to fall to the ground when his legs spasmed. A side effect of one of the medications, he usually had to be helped to the bathroom by an orderly. "You're definitely not shrinks either, despite your shrink voice," he said trying to get back on his feet. He could yell for help but he doubted the people in the hospital really cared if he lived or died as long as they weren't responsible.

"Black eyes," he froze at the words and slowly looked to the shorter of the two, who was looking at him and then nodded at him. "That mean something to you?" He swallowed. He had never told anyone about the black eyes. He wasn't even sure if it was real or something that he had made up. But a few times he had caught his reflection and his eyes had been full of darkness, if only for a few moments.

"Who are you?" He asked, his voice coming out shakily and he managed to sit back on his bed.

"It's called demon possession." The taller one took it from there. His eyes were full of compassion and caring. He hadn't seen that look in someone's eyes directed towards him not since... his dad. A large pang of loss unexpectedly hit him.

"What?" he managed to croak out.

"You know what we're talking about don't you?" The shorter one spoke briskly but not without care. He could see the pity in his eyes.

"I-" he started intending to deny it but he froze afterward. The taller one gave a brief glance at the shorter before looking back at him.

"I know what it feels like, watching as your body does things you would never do and being unable to stop it," he said. Stiles realized that what he was seeing in the taller man's eyes wasn't just concern, it was empathy. The shorter stole a glance at the taller but the taller seemed to be ignoring him. " I know how helpless you can feel and how even when it's over and you know it's not you who did those things, you can still remember it, still feel guilty." Stiles looked down at his bed. Okay maybe he did know how it was, but he didn't have to admit it.

"Why are you here?"

"We have a friend who came across the demon that possessed you, He got tidbits of your life and he wanted us to find you, he doesn't hunt anymore,"

"Hunt?" he asked confused. Like the animal hunters? No, it was more likely to be like the Argents. Those who hunted the supernatural like werewolves and the like.

"People who hunt the supernatural like demons," The taller filled in unnecessarily. He nodded distractedly trying to sort it all out in his head.

"So you hunt," he said putting two and two together, "your friend came across Peter and he wanted you to check on me?" Stiles answered, though the end sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Peter?" the taller asked concerned.

"His name was Peter. He was an asshole in life and even bigger asshole in death." He looked at them for a long moment trying to figure out if he could trust them, then just said to hell with it.

"He was a full-wolf werewolf. He was crazy after hunters burned him and his family in a house. So, he killed his niece got her powers and then tried to kill a lot more innocent people. So a bunch of us, werewolves, hunters some normal humans, at least at the time, like me and Jackson bonded together to kill him, which we did. He came back full of rage and took his revenge." It was sort of surprising how little his voice shook when he spoke. He hadn't spoken of the events in years, at least not the way they actually happened. He may have nightmares and flashbacks that made him feel like he was back there but he hadn't actually spoken about it. The two turned to each other looking confused and then seemed to be having some sort of silent argument between the two of them.

"Wait, you knew him before he died?" The taller one said suddenly. Stiles nodded. They turned back to each other and seemed to continue their silent argument seeming to ignore him. They definitely knew each other very well.

"Are you together?" he asked bringing their attention back to him. They both gave him wide surprised and slightly uncomfortable looks and he had a feeling he had misjudged something. He noticed then the way they were arguing was a lot like the way he and Scott used to argue. "You're brothers aren't you?" He said grief sticking in his voice and he lowered his head. Would it ever not hurt thinking about him?

"You're pretty observant," the shorter one said. Stiles nodded, it was his gift or his curse in life. At least it had been. He didn't have much use for it here in the crazy house, especially since he was normally drugged.

"And you know all about this stuff already," This time it didn't really seem like a question, just him figuring some stuff aloud. He looked at his brother and then sighed and nodded. They seemed to have to come to sort of decision, even if the shorter didn't seem at that happy about it.

"Alright," he said to his brother in a resigned sort of way. Stiles still had no clue what the two were talking about, so his eyes just flickered suspiciously from one brother to the other.

"Do want out of here?" Stiles frowned at that. Did he want to be here- no way. This place was a hellhole. Prison would have been better. He wasn't sure why his public defender had been so intent on getting him in here. But at the same time, he felt he belonged here, suffering for not being strong enough to overcome Peter.

"You can do that?" he answered without actually answering the question. The two brothers nodded although they both looked apprehensive about it.

"Why?" he asked still suspicious. People don't just turn up on your doorstep, believing you and offering to get you out. That's not how the world worked.

"Because the demon, Peter, is still out there and he hurt our friend." The shorter said fiercely "You know him, you know how he might think better than anyone else," Alive. His mind supplied him. But that was only because he had killed everyone who knew him.

"Besides, you don't belong here. I know it might feel like your fault, maybe that you even need to be punished but you don't. You didn't do anything. Peter is the demon that hurt your friends and family, not you." The taller said compassionately. Stiles shook his head. He knew that the older man had been possessed too, but he couldn't just let it go so easily. Not when he had spent the last two years stuck in the events of the past. He smiled kindly at him but seemed to understand because he didn't keep on trying to convince him.

"You want me to help you find him?" He said focusing on the shorter man's words rather than the taller.

"You don't have to do anything." the taller said quickly in a way he supposed was supposed to be reassuring. "You don't have to be there just give us insight so we can tell where he's going next. If anything makes you scared or uncomfortable you can back off."

"Okay," he said after a long moment of silence. "Okay, I'll let you break me out of here. I'll go along with whatever crazy plan you have but I have one condition." The two older men looked at him waiting for his conditions. "You let me kill Peter." The two brother looked at each other but this time they only exchanged a few looks before looking back at him.

"Deal," the two brothers said simultaneously.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter thanks to everyone who made it through the angst filled mess that this story is :)


End file.
